


Rewrite An Ending Or Two

by akso, orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), BAMF Morgana (Merlin), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Foster Care, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23924758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akso/pseuds/akso, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: One thing Merlin had learnt over the past few centuries was that Arthur never liked him to begin with. And this time, Arthur's a grumpy teen and Merlin is a tired foster parent.
Relationships: Lancelot & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Leon & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Morgana (Merlin), Morgana & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Rewrite An Ending Or Two

**Author's Note:**

> Super duper short first chapter! They should get longer as they go along.

Living for centuries upon centuries gave you  _ lots  _ of time to do, well, whatever. In between Arthur’s various deaths and rebirths, there’d always be gaps. Sometimes they lasted two days, sometimes over twenty years. And after exhausting what felt like all the professions and university degrees that interested him, Merlin had finally settled with working at a small, frankly shitty law firm down the road in between a barber and a lingerie shop. Charming. He wasn’t a lawyer by any means, more of a secretary-type. Less stress, that way. And for the past four-ish years, it’d worked just fine. Gaius had been the one to hire him, which was a strangely regular occurrence by that point. And Gwen was working in the bakery a few blocks away as an apprentice, so he always made sure to buy a morning scone or muffin there and say hi.

This was his first time living in this particular part of the country in the past, what, hundred years? It wasn’t exactly the nicest part of town, but it was good to change things up once and a while anyway. He had a quaint, little flat with the beige paint peeling and stains that never came out of the carpet, but it was cosy, and it had all his strange trinkets from over the years decorating the mahogany shelves. It almost felt like home.

Merlin would often catch himself simply sitting in his red, practically ancient armchair, thinking about Arthur. Or Arthurs. All twenty-six of them. Of course, focusing on some more than others. They were all Arthur, obviously, but none of them were  _ his  _ Arthur. Not the king whose side he stood by, not the man he loved in a way he could hardly understand for the first few years.

He had tried to create something similar, the first few times he met him again. But it never felt right, and to be honest, he was okay with it. That time had passed. And while of course, he’d always love every Arthur, it just wouldn’t be like that ever again.

Now, he knew being a foster parent was hard work and he only had a modest home, but he felt it necessary. It was fulfilling, and he had (quite literally) all the time in the world, so why not? The kids he took in never lasted too long, seven months being the current record. But he still built connections with them nonetheless, and felt like he was at least doing some good. And while he didn’t really have a use for magic in modern times, doing small ‘tricks’ for younger kids, like lighting a candle from afar or fixing a teddy in an instant, always put a smile on their faces, and his in return.

And that is how Merlin ended up sitting at his kitchen table, with a fifteen-year-old mess of blond hair sitting across from him at eleven PM, poking at his spaghetti that was supposed to be the newest Arthur. He was still wearing his creased tie and wrinkled white shirt, no doubt the uniform of the school nearby over which he was wearing a large red parka, he was treating it almost like a blanket.

“I can get you something else? If you’d like, that is.” Merlin tried desperately to break the silence. Arthur’s eyes snapped up at him.

“You don’t look any older than seventeen.” He said with the corner of his mouth, dragging out the  _ ‘teen’  _ while still abusing the spaghetti with his fork. To his credit, the food was a little undercooked, but it can’t have been  _ that  _ bad.

“Twenty-three, actually.” Give or take a few centuries. Arthur stared at him like he’d grown an extra head. God, he would never, ever, be used to Arthur looking so small. 

“Where am I sleeping?” Arthur got up, grabbing his two swarthy old duffle bags.

“I’ll show you, come on then.” Merlin quickly dabbed his face with a napkin and showed Arthur to the spare room. It was pretty plain, since he got kids of all ages and didn’t want any of them to feel like they were staying in the room of someone way out of their age range. Although, if needed, there was always the toy chest in the back of the closet for the little ones. “If you want, on the weekend we can pop down to the shops and buy some things to help you decorate.” He smiled. Arthur walked through the threshold and immediately slammed the door in his face. Merlin blinked, taken aback for the first few seconds, and then sighed.

It was to be expected, a lot of teenagers he fostered weren’t exactly happy with their situation and tended to be a bit rude. And after all, this was Arthur Pendragon.

Merlin walked back to the table and picked up his plate and Arthur’s (still full) plate. On his way to the sink, he mentally recapped what he knew about this Arthur. Merlin had learnt that he had been in the system for a few weeks once about six years ago. And that day, he’d been taken out of his father’s custody in the late afternoon and was dropped at Merlin’s within a few hours. His older sister, (Morgana, of course) had run away two years prior and had yet to return. And Uther wasn’t in jail or anything (at least not yet,) he just wasn’t allowed to see his son for now. 

He didn’t know many details beyond that, but it was enough to make his stomach churn. Arthur would be going back to school the next day, as it was still close enough for him to catch the bus so it wasn’t like he had to transfer or anything. And Merlin would be going back to work.

After finishing with the dishes, Merlin decided it was simply best to go to bed. He sat atop of the covers with his work clothes still on and idly watched reruns of Hell’s Kitchen as he dozed. He had stopped seeking Arthur out after his ninth or so life, as he had a knack for always finding him in the end, circumstances being good or bad. He hadn’t expected to meet Arthur this soon again, nor in this context. After all, it’d just been a completely normal day at work and a subsequent quiet afternoon when he was asked if he could take care of a kid on very short notice. He brought his hand up to sweep his hair back and exhaled.

Just as he began to drift off into sleep, he heard a dull thud on the wall. Then another. Groggily pulling himself off the bed, he wandered to the spare room (Arthur’s room?) and knocked on the door.

“Arthur?” He was met with no answer, only another thud and hasty mumbling. Merlin braced himself to open the door and saw Arthur thrashing, tangled in the sheets and indistinctly murmuring to himself. He quickly paced over and shook him on the shoulder, gently but quickly. In response, Arthur’s eyes shot open as he quickly sat up pulling himself away from Merlin, he was breathing alarmingly fast. They stared at each other for a few very long seconds before Arthur shouted, “Get out.”, he had tried to sound commanding but his voice unmistakably wavered. 

“I’m just making sure you’re feeling alright,” Merlin backed away slowly,“-Can I get you anything?”

“Get out!” Arthur said again, and Merlin listened this time. Shutting the door behind him, he bit his lip. God, was he really emotionally ready for this? There were few things he absolutely dreaded more than seeing Arthur in distress, especially when he was still young.

After walking back to his room for a second time, he decided to get properly changed into more comfortable clothes. Exhausted, he shoved his face into a dusty pillow, Hell’s Kitchen, of course, still running quietly in the background.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've got a little extra time, I'd love to know what you thought about this chapter! Next one should be out by saturday.


End file.
